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“I am.” I smiled as she ran straight to me, and I wrapped her up in a hug. “My mom told me you were gonna be here, and I had to come. I miss you so much. Miss Fleming isn’t nearly as much fun as you are—but don’t tell her I said that ’cause it might hurt her feelings.”
I laughed, forgetting that we were in a room with Jackson. “Well, I’ll make sure not to tell her, but I think she’d agree that I’m a lot of fun,” I added, giving her one last squeeze. “This is going to be a fun night.” As the words left my mouth, I felt eyes on me…
And I realized everyone was staring at me.
Oh, and the cameras were pointed right in my direction.
My face felt hot at the attention, especially when I caught Jackson staring the most intensely, a peculiar look on his face. Thankfully, the presence of more kids and parents—mostly moms—started pouring in, and I was able to avoid looking at Jackson for the time being.
“So…” Melissa said in a low voice as she approached the desk. “I think I’m going to lead this class tonight. I’ll have you on piano for backup—and keeping control of the kids. You know they’re going to be over-the-top excited about this.”
I nodded, actually finding relief in the idea of planting myself on the piano bench and staying there. “That sounds wonderful to me.”
She smiled as if she’d thought I might protest. “Great.”
Pushing back from the old wooden desk, I made my way toward the piano. Some people, especially in this city, might want the chance to be on the camera…but me? Nah. I had no desire to be famous or get my face out there.
I just wanted to survive the night.
“So you’re just an assistant?” Jackson’s snide tone stopped me in my tracks a foot from the piano.
“So you’re just using me to make yourself look better?” I shot back at him, my tone cold as I met his gaze. It didn’t matter that he looked beyond freaking handsome in his dark-wash jeans and white T-shirt, his hair freshly cut and styled. He was still beyond irritating. “And for the record, I don’t teach the evening class,” I added. “I’m only here because you requested me.”
There was a flash of amusement—and maybe embarrassment—in his expression. “Who told you that?”
I smiled, glancing past him to Melissa, who was giving me a warning look. “It’s time for class, Jackson.” With that, I continued to my spot, sliding onto the black piano bench in front of the upright instrument.
Jackson’s attention shifted to the kids, one of them running up to him with a huge grin on their face. I watched the two of them, noticing that for the first time since meeting him, Jackson looked like he felt—awkward. The little boy kept chatting, while Jackson nodded, not saying much more than “yeah” or “that’s cool.”
And then the little boy hugged him.
I nearly laughed as Jackson went stiff as a board, his cheeks turning red. Oh my gosh, he has no idea how to interact with kids.
Maybe it was going to be a fun night.
“Okay, class.” Melissa cleared her throat. “Everyone take your seats. It’s time to begin.”
The kids slid into the desks, and my fingers began to move across the keys softly, playing a tune that I’d written myself.
“Tonight we have a special guest,” Melissa said, all the kids—and moms—cheering and clapping as Jackson waved to the class. “He’s going to hang out, and maybe play a few songs for you, would you like that?”
“Yes!” one of the little girls shrieked.
I laughed at her reaction, and Jackson, whose back was to me, looked over his shoulder at me. Our eyes locked, my fingers still dancing over the keys, and his lips fell into a flat line.
He was listening to me play.
And for some reason, that made my stomach flutter.
I ripped my gaze from his, dropping it to my hands as Melissa called out for a song to be played. I began to play the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and the kids’ voices filled the air. I smiled to myself, and then eyed Jackson, who was now singing along with them.
It was hilarious…and endearing.
At the conclusion of the song, one of the crew members handed Jackson a guitar and he walked up to the desk, speaking lowly to Melissa. And for a moment, a pang of jealousy slipped into my chest.
“Okay, let’s move the desk back and form a circle on the rug,” Melissa instructed, and the kids cheered, jumping from their seats and scooting everything out of the way. I watched as Jackson took a seat on the rug, the Martin acoustic guitar in his lap.
“I thought it might be more fun to do it like this,” Jackson began, his voice less confident than usual. He was clearly out of his element…
